


have we enough to keep it together?

by haemocyanin



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Confrontations, Duelling, Fist Fights, Gen, Heart-to-Heart, Hopeful Ending, Implied Relationships, M/M, School Phase, can be taken as romantic or platonic, pre-release
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-22
Updated: 2019-07-22
Packaged: 2020-07-11 13:04:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19928533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/haemocyanin/pseuds/haemocyanin
Summary: All tensions must come to a head, Dimitri knows that. It's perhaps fitting for them to clash like this, for there's a vulnerability in words that neither wants to expose.The thing is, one can only let it fester inside for so long.





	have we enough to keep it together?

**Author's Note:**

> why yes i am STILL on my nonsense with no chance of returning, why do you ask?
> 
> or: pre-release fic 2: electric boogaloo
> 
> there's some dubious medieval fencing terminology during the duel part because my memory of terms is bad and i had to use a glossary, but you can also imagine the duel's moves going however you want that it won't impact the story, i guess
> 
> title is from 'can't stand me now', from the libertines

There is a strained silence as Dimitri walks two steps behind Felix to the training grounds. Darkness looms over the monastery, and the lamp-lights just barely break through the matinal fog. They had agreed to do this as early as possible at Felix's insistence, and Dimitri wished he didn't know why.

He refuses to acknowledge the sting that Felix not wanting to be seen with him causes. Dimitri knows he wouldn't even be around him right now if he had the option.

Professor Byleth had given their class an assignment – "you will train with a partner of my choosing for a week, and at end of the week, we will discuss the conclusions you've reached, as well as the point of this exercise. The time and methods of training are to your criteria."

And that had been the end of it. Felix hadn't questioned the professor's decision, but the tension settling over his shoulders when she had announced that Dimitri would be his partner hadn't gone unnoticed. Dimitri, for his part, thinks the professor's choice hadn't been accidental. Perhaps his mention of troubles with a friend hadn't been as off-handed as he thought it was, but it didn't seem too far-fetched to assume she would pull something like that. It feels a little embarrassing, though, to have his teacher to meddle in his personal life because he can't find it in himself to confront the problem.

They stop by the armory to gather their weapons. Dimitri wants to say something, but by the time he opens his mouth, Felix is already on his way out, sword in hand. He sighs, resigned, and follows him to the field, where they position themselves.

"I don't need to explain the rules to you now, do I," Felix says, void of mirth.

"Same as always?" Dimitri asks, for formality's sake. He gets an assenting grunt for his trouble.

Felix is already in position, razor-focused, everything in his stance indicates a single-minded obstinacy that Dimitri can't help but wonder if he does want to hurt him.

He starts with a lunge.

Felix is a formidable opponent, Dimitri realizes as he parries a horizontal cut. He twists the sword's blade with his lance so Felix is forced to fall back, but he doesn't expect him to turn his body around so the edge slides through the shaft, coming dangerously close to Dimitri's fingers. He flips his hold of the spear around to avoid the hit, whirling the spear and pushing Felix back with sheer force.

His tells are gone. It's more distressing than he'd thought it would be, realizing he can't predict Felix anymore, in combat or otherwise. He wants to ask what's gotten into him, but Felix is attacking again, a vertical strike that lands with almost no force against the spear's shaft, and Dimitri realizes he's been feinted.

He feels the blade rustle the fabric of his uniform as Felix thrusts it forward from under Dimitri's hold of the spear, just barely sidestepping out of the way.

Felix narrows his eyes.

He resigns himself to defending. Like this, he's not sure he wants to spar. The stormy look in Felix's glare feels too personal to be mere competitiveness.

He doesn't know how to get through Felix without giving away something that he himself can't face and it feels almost unfair, to be held at such standards. Maybe Felix thought all this time Dimitri was a different kind of person, and he was disappointed with the truth. Perhaps he can see how Dimitri has been fraying at the edges for a long time and thinks that he's weak for hiding away into this veneer of nobility. Perhaps it's something worse. But now, as he wears down Felix's stamina and patience with parries and dodges, Dimitri finds that he does not care much for the in-betweens, he just wants his best friend back. He feels tired, more than anything.

"I took you for many things, but I didn't think I would have to add coward to the list," Felix says when he blocks yet another strike from above and they keep their weapons locked for a moment. The remark makes Dimitri push Felix away, and cracks something inside him.

It's perhaps that that makes Dimitri twist his lance forward, taking the offensive for the first time since their match began. Felix pushes it away easily with the flat of the sword, but there's surprise etched on his face. His expression then twists and Dimitri can't help but notice that he seems to lose a bit of that composure he emanated over the course of the duel. It looks like he's holding back a snarl, Dimitri thinks as he wonders if Felix will strike again, but he sets his feet into a guarding stance. He lets out a shaky breath, and his following words betray his body language.

"Is that what it takes to get you to take this seriously? Am I hurting your knightly pride?"

 _It's not about my pride_ , Dimitri thinks in an almost petulant manner, and it really isn't.

He's used to Felix's scathing remarks, but nothing quite like this. Felix takes pride in his cool demeanor, and would never embarrass himself with this kind of outburst because of a sparring match of all things. Dimitri wants to say it's out of character, but it has been a long time coming.

It has been crawling between their feet for a while now and it was just a matter of time before either of them tripped up – Felix grew confrontational, and not in the way that he used to be, competitive and contrarian just because he could afford to be. There's a restless desperation in each swing of his blade and his words are now laced with venom, and Dimitri would be lying if he were to say it didn't hurt. Right now, with Felix's livid eyes burning through him, the adrenaline of the fight is the only thing holding back his tears.

Still he advances, step after step, using both ends of the spear, and he can see Felix is struggling to keep up his defenses. Maybe not all is changed. Felix has always favored leading the offensive, too quick for an unused opponent to keep up with, but he'd always struggled with his guards and could always be backed into a corner by an equally aggressive adversary. It makes Dimitri bolder and gives him the resolve necessary to confront Felix.

"Talk to me," he says, made almost inaudible by another clash of steel on steel.

"No," Felix grits out, moving his entire body out of the way of the blunt end of Dimitri's weapon when he sees that he won't be able to parry.

He dodges again when the lance comes in his direction as a thrust.

"Talk to me," Dimitri repeats when Felix raises his eyes to him.

"There's nothing to talk about."

He then lunges, but like this, angry and tired, Felix falls into patterns Dimitri knows by heart. He twists Felix's blade with the spear end, and Felix struggles to keep his hold of the weapon.

"Then why do you keep acting like this? Talk to me, Felix," Dimitri asks, pleads. He knows he sounds desperate, and hopes Felix can hear it in his voice. Perhaps he'd understand it's not something Dimitri would do for anyone.

"Why don't _you_ talk to me, then," Felix says, spits it out as if it had been lodged in his throat for a long time and sends Dimitri reeling.

He moves forward, more furious than Dimitri has ever seen him, exhaustion forgotten in the haze of his anger.

"It's not so fun when it's someone else doing it to you, huh?"

"Felix—"

"It feels bad, doesn't it? To wonder what someone is thinking. To wait for them to tell you, because they've said time and time again that they trust you, but then they never do. To watch them become a stranger right under your nose. It's—" he pauses to catch his breath, like he wouldn't have gotten the words out if he had stopped to breathe. "Did you ever think how I—"

Dimitri's hands sting with the impact of the sword against his weapon. He wants to press Felix about what he was going to say, what did he meant, how he— _felt?_ —

It's that new motivation that gets him to step forward and forget the way his muscles ache. He's let this go for too long, and if fighting like he has nothing left to lose is the only to get through Felix, then he will.

The duel becomes a blur then— Dimitri parries, Felix follows with a riposte, then steps back and advances with a diagonal cut, Dimitri lunges under his arm so he slips back—

Their weapons sing in sharp screeches at every clash, all technique forgotten on favor of an old dance. Their shadows too often meet and embrace, then part in a rhythm of their own. Felix is just as exhausted as he is, but this fight has never been about skill in the first place. It's the product of more than a few months of an unspeakable tension, and neither wants to give.

When Felix's sword comes down on him, he meets it halfway and pushes forward, intending to bind him into giving him an opening. It works, and he jabs the spear forward towards the grip.

There is a moment of baffled silence after Felix's sword clanks against the ground, and Dimitri holds his position, breathing heavily. He is about to relax his stance when Felix jumps forward, from under the spear, and tackles him to the ground.

Dimitri doesn't have time to react before Felix gets a hand to his collar and delivers a punch to his face, making his ears ring. He's about to get a second hit in with his other fist, but Dimitri manages to catch his arm before it hits him. 

Felix looks bewildered at this reaction, like he wasn't the one to drop the duel for a fist-fight. He then beats at Dimitri's hand with his free arm, trying his hardest to pull it out of Dimitri's grasp. Dimitri refuses to give.

"Stop it," he says, attempting to maintain some level of restraint in the quickly spiraling situation. It proves fruitless, as he tries to repeat himself and gets an elbow to the jaw. "Stop it, Felix!"

Dimitri gets a hold on Felix's free arm and uses his weight to flip them around, so he's staring down at Felix. It's only then he accepts defeat, the tension draining from his body in a heavy sigh.

"Why are you only honest like this," Felix asks, but it sounds like an accusation. It throws Dimitri in for a loop, because it's not the first time Felix said that. He doesn't know how to respond, and Felix notices. He smirks, but it doesn't reach his eyes. "I thought it wasn't chivalrous, to lie like that."

"I thought you hated bullshit," Dimitri says before he can catch himself. He's fooling himself at this point, acting like he doesn't understand what Felix is referring to, but he's not ready to be the one to relent.

"Hypocrites, the both of us," Felix tells him, like it's supposed to comfort him.

"Maybe," he answers back, like it means anything. "I'm tired, Felix. Can't we go back the way we used to be?"

"I don't know, Dimitri," and for once, he sounds genuine. It's not reassuring however, the resigned hopelessness of his statement. "Can we? You tell me."

And—

He can't refuse that, not when that's the heart of the matter. Felix is all but spelling it out for him, how they got to this point and who is to blame. Dimitri suddenly wants him to be angry again, because if Felix is willing to talk things out then there's no way he can keep the charade up. It's terrifying, the thought of undoing the stitches he had sewn up himself, to keep the hurt out of prying eyes. Dimitri is festering inside and he knows.

He lets go of Felix's arms at last and flops on his back beside him. Felix turns his head to look at him and Dimitri doesn't need to see him to know he has a question. He finds himself unable to maintain eye contact with Felix, if he has to do this.

"I," he begins, unsure of what he's even supposed to say. "What else could I do? I can't afford to—" be hurt again, to lose anyone else, to wait for it all to fall apart over him.

He doesn't know anymore what is it that claws at him, makes him try and burn every last bridge just so he hide away under the mantle of knightly virtue, to excuse himself from his own life under the guise of a king-to-be's duty. It's easier, to treat everyone in the same pleasant-but-detached way than to acknowledge the dark thing following him just underneath the ice. But he should've known better, for even the thick ice of the northernmost lakes will crack, under enough pressure. 

"I'm meant to do this alone," he gets out, drags it out of some hidden corner of his soul. "I can't afford to take anyone else down with me," he says, and he can almost feel the bile surging up in his throat. Felix has straightened his back as he listens with attention, but Dimitri doesn't meet his eyes. If he does, he won't get to finish this. "And yet, I'm already doing it. I have a duty to so many, and I have already failed you. If you felt like I didn't trust you it's because—"

"I don't think you get to decide that," Felix says, interrupting him and derailing his thought process.

"Excuse me?"

"You can't say you failed me because of what you did or didn't do. I don't care for an apology, I just—" and now it's Felix who turns his eyes away, frowning as he tries to work out his words. "Listen— what I'm saying is that maybe you don't have to shoulder this all on your own."

 _Oh, but I do_ , he thinks with a heavy heart.

"It's what a king must do. A king must live for his people, the person beneath doesn't matter in the grand scheme of things," he says, and his despair is transparent. It shouldn't matter, in the end, not when Faerghus needs him for protection, for guidance, for vengeance.

"What of the ones that live for that person beneath? What becomes of them?" Felix asks, and Dimitri is so taken aback he forgets himself and meets his eyes. This time, Felix stares him down unflinchingly, like he's beyond shame. Like he's daring Dimitri to respond.

Dimitri isn't sure he can rise up to his challenge. It's one thing to put down the weight of his soul, but recognizing that Felix is doing the same for his sake, right before him, feels like too much. Felix notices, and perhaps takes pity on him, but his following words show his displeasure as he says, "Talking to you feels like pulling teeth sometimes, you know."

"I don't know what to do," he says, and he hopes they're not so far gone that Felix understands what he means. Felix, for his part, leans forward and lets his forehead drop against Dimitri's shoulder. It feels not quite like forgiveness. Perhaps he's just as tired.

"Yes, you do," Felix answers, like he's talking about the simplest thing in the world.

"I don't know how to do it," Dimitri says this time, and it's the closest to an admission he can muster.

He can feel Felix fiddling with the insignia of his uniform, and he knows him to be thinking his words over, so he stays still.

"We can figure it out," he says at last, "if you allow me."

There's another moment of quiet as Dimitri thinks it over, broken only by the growing murmuring of birds in the distance.

"Okay," he says.

"Yeah?" and if Felix's answer comes somewhat strangled, his hand tight over the insignia, then it's not Dimitri who'd call him out on it. He hums his acquiescence, and feels Felix's weight heavier over his shoulder as the unspoken tension leaves his body.

He knows it's not as easy as this, to fix things. There are things he's not ready to tell Felix, things he can't even think of without feeling like the ice is cracking under his feet and the water is just waiting to swallow him whole, but a lone lion is doomed to die, alone as it lived. He knows that, and even if doesn't want to share his burden, there is hope to be found in the fierce devotion Felix offers him despite it all.

"I missed you, you know," he says out of the blue, breaking the quiet that had settled over them.

Felix, for his part, pulls away from his shoulder to glare at him and mock-punch his arm, but as he tells him, "Shut up, boar. Whose fault is that," there's a warm glint in his eyes that betray his words. Still, Dimitri is not one to let go easily.

"I thought you wanted me to talk?"

Felix huffs and doesn't dignify him with an answer, opting instead to let his head fall back on Dimitri's shoulder, which says more about his opinion on the matter than his words. It's then Dimitri notices the sun is rising, dawn washing the day anew over them.

**Author's Note:**

> in the following days there's a rumor around the monastery they were sneaking out to make out at the training grounds because some student woke up early and saw dimitri pining felix to the ground when they were talking


End file.
